Page 24 of Nyx

The room is cozy, filled with comfortable-looking sofas and chairs. There's a massive television on one wall, arcade games, a dartboard, and a pool table further into the room.

"Would you like anything to drink?" Emmalyn asks, drawing my attention back to her.

"No, thank you," I answer.

"They'll be with you in a moment," she says before walking away.

My eyes follow her until she steps into a room off to the right. The large service window on the wall outside the room makes me believe it's a kitchen, but I can't tell exactly from where I'm sitting.

I know there are other people close by. I can hear signs of life surrounding me, but no one else steps into the room.

Another check of my watch tells me that my interview was supposed to begin fifteen minutes ago, and knowing that I'm late, despite it not being my fault, makes me a little jittery. Add to it the fact that I'm all but trapped on this property, and I fully understand why sweat dots the skin at my hairline.

Chapter 7

Nyx

I growl in frustration as I try to get my big-ass fingers into a spot meant for something much smaller.

I never thought I'd be a man who spent so much time fiddling with a perfectly working motorcycle, but the boredom around here has the ability to drive a man insane.

I track the movement across from me on instinct, but I discovered very quickly that Mischief isn't one of the guys around here who feels like he needs to fill the silence with small talk. He's just as content as I am to work around others in silence.

The phone rings on the far wall, and Mischief, being closer, stops what he's doing to answer it.

"Got it," he says before hanging up, the conversation lasting all of a few seconds. "Kincaid wants you in the conference room."

I pull my hands from the grips of my bike and grab a shop towel to clean them up as best as I can.

"Thanks," I tell him before leaving the shop.

I have no idea what Kincaid might want, but I don't ask questions when I've been summoned.

I notice the unfamiliar car sitting in the parking lot. A champagne-colored Toyota tends to stand out sharply in a sea of black SUVs.

I check my phone, wondering if the call came into the shop because I missed a notification on the Cerberus app we're required to use, but I have no notifications.

I check my hands one last time before reaching for the clubhouse's front door to make sure there isn't anything on them that'll transfer.

The shop is cool, but it didn't take long for the New Mexico sun to warm me up on the short walk to the clubhouse. The cool air inside hits me like an arctic blast when I step inside.

I notice her the second I step inside, wondering what expression I have on my face when she seems a little wary and startled at the sight of me. I do my best to soften my face, but the scowl has been such a part of me for so long, it seems almost unnatural.

I give her a dip of my head before heading toward the conference room. I feel her eyes track me all the way across the room.

"You needed me," I say as I step into the conference room and see Kincaid and Shadow at the front. As always, Max is at his computer.

"Close that door," Kincaid says.

I turn back around, noticing the woman sitting in the room one last time before closing the door.

Tension tightens my back muscles as I turn around to face the guys, my mind racing with a million questions. Fear of getting fired always accompanies these types of meetings, and I can't help but wonder how long that's going to last. Maybe forever, or maybe one day, I'll feel secure enough in my position at Cerberus that a request like this doesn't automatically make me think I'm headed out the door.

"We're interviewing a new intake officer for the women's shelter," Kincaid says as I turn back to face them and inch a little closer. "We'd like you to sit in on the interview."

"Okay," I tell him simply. "Where should I sit?"

I move toward the chair Kincaid points to, body as cool as a cucumber, but inside I'm almost to the point of challenging both the president and vice president.